Alone In the Middle of Nowhere.
"John, sit." Sherlock says to the still-shivering Doctor. When he sees that John won't do such a thing as move by himself, he grabs his shoulders again and leads him to the couch. John doesn't object and sits quietly. He stares at Sherlock who comes to sit next to him, with even less color on his face than usual.
Sherlock stares back at John and he feels his heart aching in his chest; John looks so miserable, so overwhelmed that Sherlock puts his entire mind on what he can do to make this man beside him feel a bit better, or at least get a hold of himself.
John covers his eyes with his palms and tries to take a deep breath in order to control the panic that has already started to take over his body. He notices all the signs of panic attack: Hyperventilation, sweat, rapid pulse and, of course, his damn tremor. But no matter how hard he tries to control all those frustrating symptoms, he can't stop thinking about the fact that Emily, his baby, is probably in the hands of the biggest criminal psychopath he has ever heard of. His child.
Sherlock's hand cuts down John's train of thought as it rests gently on his back, and pats him slowly in a way that reminds John that he isn't alone in this mess; Sherlock will help. Sherlock will help him save his baby.
"Tea?" Sherlock asks him quietly, after a few minutes that feel like eternity as he continues stroking John's back. John nods but keeps his face covered and tries to think. Think, he tells himself. Think harder than you have ever thought before; think rationally. Think like Moriarty; like a criminal mastermind—that's the only way you and Sherlock can find Emily.
Sherlock stops stroking John's back and John tenses again in despair. Sherlock looks at him for a moment before deciding to carry on, to be at least a bit useful, and leave John to his difficult thoughts. Obviously, he would prefer to sit next to John and hold him close as long as he can, but that won't be helpful for John, and Sherlock wants… no, he needs to help.
He gets up from the couch and walks into the kitchen. He begins the normal ritual of making tea and picks John's favorite mug (at least something to make him feel better). When he opens the cupboard under the sink in order to throw away the teabag, he jumps in surprise and accidently drops the cup on the floor. The cup shatters into pieces, but that doesn't seem to affect Sherlock at all. Instead, he just looks at something under the sink with wide eyes and pale skin. John jumps in his seat and turns to look at Sherlock; even in his state, John can see that something has completely overwhelmed Sherlock and it makes him feel even more scared. "What happened?"
Sherlock bends over so John can't see what he is doing, but when Sherlock straightens up again, he holds in his arms a little crying creature.
"John, I think we've found our lost," Sherlock says with a numb tone as he holds Emily close to him, while the little girl is crying her heart out. She puts her face in between the gap of Sherlock's neck and holds him so tight, he's afraid she might choke him. Her Tinkerbelle pajama is soaked with what smells greatly like urine, but Sherlock hugs her tightly anyway, ignoring the discomfort he might be feeling. John still sits overwhelmed on the couch—staring at his flat mate and daughter, who's clearly traumatized. John's mind takes a few long seconds before kicking John back from his shock and into action. He practically runs to his daughter, who refuses to calm down, and tightens her arms around Sherlock as she thinks that John wants to hold her himself. John is taken aback by surprise from his little child's rejection and isn't quite sure what he should feel about that.
When he looks at Sherlock, though, he knows exactly why Emily prefers to hug him than to hug John. John is still very much shivering and looks like a mess, but Sherlock… Sherlock is standing there just as calm as ever; his presence and calmness affects Emily greatly—more than John could ever affect her in his state. He settles for patting her back, just to let her know that "Daddy's here," if she wants him to be.
"Sweetheart," he starts saying to her after a few minutes of nothing but his daughter's sobbing, "tell us what happened." Emily stops crying at once and finally looks up at her daddy and her godfather. She stays quiet, though, and focuses her gaze on Sherlock, as if she knows that he'd know what happened whether she would tell him or not. John stays confused, but Sherlock, as usual, understands that the little girl needs some time to recover first, if they want her to tell them something later. He smiles broadly at her and embraces her tightly. "Let's get you in the shower, all right? Get you a clean and dry pajama and make you some… tea? John, do children drink tea?"
John chuckles and stares at his unbelievable flat mate. He can't believe how much Sherlock has changed during that time that he wasn't part of John's life. He is still Sherlock; brilliant, acute, rude and arrogant. Charming in his way and dedicated to his work more than anything else in the world. But this—this is new. He shows that he cares. He never showed that kind of emotion before. So even though John knew that he always cared, always loved, always was there for his friends and family (Mycroft should be damn grateful)grateful), it is nice to see it—to see how much he cares. If not for him, then for his little child. God knows that that's exactly what she needs right now.
"John?" John shifts his piercing gaze from Sherlock and rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. Sherlock raises an eyebrow in response but doesn't say anything, probably because of Emily's presence.
"Tea? Hum… I think she'd prefer some hot chocolate right now. Am I right, Em?" Sherlock feels Emily's nod more than sees it, and he smiles a smile that makes John feel warmness in his chest.
"Hot chocolate it is then. But first—shower." Sherlock says and starts walking with her to the bathroom. "Be so kind and bring her some underwear and dry pajama, will you?" John smiles and tries to think how he ever got so lucky.
An hour later Emily is all washed up; clean and redressed and with a mug of hot chocolate in her hands. She still refuses to leave Sherlock's side and sits on his lap. When Emily finishes her heavenly beverage and licks her lips, John figures that now might be a good time to start asking the hard questions.
"Em, you know that you can tell us what happened, right? We really need to know if Aunt Molly needs any help from us. Can you please tell us what happened?" Emily freezes and looks at her daddy with big green sad eyes. Sherlock and John wait patiently, both smiling their best reassuring smile in order to make the little one feel safe, but she just sits on Sherlock's lap and doesn't say a word.
When John starts to think about giving up, he hears his little daughter whisper. "Can I only tell Sherlock?" she asks, and John again feels hurt that his daughter trusts Sherlock more than she trusts her own father.
"Why, honey? Did I do anything wrong?" he asks her and refuses to look at Sherlock, who from the corner of his eyes John can see, looks at him with pity.
Again, Emily starts crying even more heartbrokenly than before. Sherlock spins her and hugs her tightly, and whispers something in her ear so John can't listen in. John tries very hard not to cry; the thought of his own child loving Sherlock more is beyond devastating. Emily nods and Sherlock kisses her cheek lightly. He stands up, still with Emily in his arms, and tells John he will be right back. But John doesn't listen, he can't hear anything but Emily's sobs and his own heart beating achingly in his chest. Maybe he should just leave her with Sherlock; he'll take good care of her, and if she loves him more, then there isn't any reason not to. Except that there is—she is his daughter, and he loves her more than life itself; he loves her more than he loves Mary, or more accurately—loved Mary. He loves her more than he loved his parents and more than he loves Harry. He also loves her more than he loves Sherlock, and that is indeed a lot.
"Oh, John, would you stop looking so miserable?" John raises his head and sees Sherlock standing near the couch. He didn't even notice him standing there until Sherlock spoke.
"She didn't mean it the way it sounded, I guarantee," Sherlock says and takes his place on the couch next to John. When John still doesn't look at him, Sherlock holds John's face with both his hands and turns him so John can look him in the eyes. Sherlock's hands are still holding both sides of John's face, and he has to use all his self-control in order not to lean in and kiss John. They remain like this for a few long seconds that feel like eternity to Sherlock; he feels his heart beating fast and the heat comes up to his face. John is looking at Sherlock with wide eyes that remind Sherlock that he absolutely can't kiss John, not now. He takes his hands off John's face and clears his throat. "Just look at me when I talk to you, okay?" Sherlock asks quickly before John can ask what the hell was that about.
John nods slowly and keeps looking into Sherlock's bluish eyes. He can't understand what just happened; other than the unexpected touch, there was something so vulnerable in Sherlock's eyes—something that makes John blush and want to run away, because it scares the shit out of him. In a damn good way.
"Emily didn't want to say anything to you because she thought you'd be mad at her," Sherlock explains slowly, still looking for the right words and trying his best to lay it down as gently as possible. He knows John won't take the news well. John tilts his head, confused, and keeps looking into Sherlock's eyes to find more explanations.
"Mary was here, John," Sherlock says quietly and sighs. "Mary was the one who came here and scared Emily and took Molly. Emily said she was with another man, she doesn't know what he looks like because she promised Molly she'd hide in the cupboard no matter whose voice she heard, but she recognized her mother's voice, and another man's. She did say he sounded a bit funny, and yelled a lot, so that fits with Jim. John, are you all right?" Sherlock asks, when he sees that John is on the edge on a mental breakdown.
"She told you all that?"
"That's what bothering you? I just told you that your wife is cooperating with someone who most likely answers to the name Moriarty, and they both took Molly, and that's what you're asking me?" Sherlock snaps and stands up from his seat. He tries very hard not to raise his voice and affect even further the little girl sleeping in his room. John can be such an idiot sometimes, Sherlock thinks to himself. John also jumps from his seat with rage; Sherlock almost regrets yelling at him. This murderous gaze always makes him feel like he has done something horrible, that he should feel sorry even if he really doesn't.
It is too bad then, that all Sherlock can think about, staring at his best friend's raging green eyes, that he is too sexy when he's mad. But before Sherlock has the chance to dwell on that matter, John is already yelling.
"I heard you perfectly well, Sherlock! Forgive me if I have no fucking solution to give you! Nothing at all! I've married this woman, that's true, but I refuse taking responsibility for everything she does, not anymore. I've signed the damn divorce papers, Sherlock, so I'm allowed not to care."
"No, you're not. I don't care that you married her, John, I care that she is the mother of your child, of your now-traumatized child, and that's what you should care about also." Sherlock tries to regain his patience, reminding himself that Emily must be listening to them. Sherlock sighs when he sees that he hurt John, and walks toward him. When there's merely an inch separating them, Sherlock says with a low voice that he knows always calms John, "No one is blaming you, but I need your help."
With that John raises his head to meet Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock needs him, and god knows he needs Sherlock even more. He nods slowly and realizes how close he is to Sherlock; it seems like they share the same air, that every breath that Sherlock exhales, John inhales, and the only thing that pops into John's mind is—'kiss me.'
He is so overwhelmed with that thought that he automatically takes a step back from Sherlock and takes a deep breath. He tells himself that it's just the desperation for some human comfort. It's been years since he thought about Sherlock that way, and Sherlock was always married to his work, always busy with everything but relationships. He wasn't even sure that Sherlock liked sex before Janine. God, how much he hated Janine. She got from Sherlock what John never did; even married, John was so utterly jealous with her.
Sherlock is talking to him, but John isn't listening; he can't, he needs to think. Sherlock, of course, notices that John is in a completely different world right now, and turns to the kitchen to make more tea before going to sleep. He thinks about the look on John's face when he realized that Sherlock was so close to him, when he thought that Sherlock was going to kiss him. Sherlock was never sure about the way John loves him; he always insisted that he's straight and that he and Sherlock were never more than colleges and friends. Good friends, but friends nonetheless.
He jumps in surprise when feels Emily nudging at his trousers in order to get him to notice her. He smiles at her fondly and tries to think when was the last time he loved someone so much and so fast—the answer, of course, is the little child's father.
He lifts Emily to sit on the kitchen counter while he waits for the water to boil. She smiles back at him and tells him that she can't sleep. He gives her a look full of understanding and glances back to the living room, where John lies on the couch with his eyes closed, but Sherlock knows him well enough to see that he isn't sleeping.
"Why can't you sleep?" he asks her when the water finally boils and the kettle turns off. She shrugs and Sherlock takes a deep breath. "That's not an answer," he tells her.
"I think I miss mommy," she says quietly, as if ashamed to say so aloud. "Daddy doesn't like mommy anymore, does he?" she asks Sherlock after a few seconds. Sherlock looks at her, surprised. It seems like she has better deduction skills than her own dad.
"Why do you think so?"
She shrugs again, and Sherlock takes another annoyed deep breath. She is just a child, be patient. She gets the hint and starts explaining: "Whenever I talk about mommy, daddy looks annoyed or he has that funny expression on his face. He never had that before. They used to yell a lot, especially the night daddy took me here…do people just stop loving each other so easily? What if daddy stops loving me also?" she asks Sherlock with tears in her eyes, and Sherlock feels his heart break a little. He can never stand to see a Watson cry.
He hugs her tightly and feels his shirt getting wet again from her tears. "No, not when they truly love each other. Some people are supposed to be together, and some are not. Your mom and dad were not supposed to be together, but don't ever think that your dad doesn't love you. He loves you more than anything else. I can show you the signs if you would like." She nods and it seems like she is getting calmer.
"Okay, for one, every time he looks at you, his eyes gleam with joy. Second, look at him now—what do you see?" Emily pushes herself away from Sherlock and looks at her father with wondering eyes.
"He is sleeping," she says after a long minute. Sherlock shakes his head, "No, you see, he is trying to sleep, but he can't. He is completely restless because he is trying to figure out a way he can keep you protected, so what happened before with mommy won't happen again. Do you see?"
She looks thoughtfully at her father again, and nods slowly. "I can see he isn't sleeping, he keeps moving his legs and he breathes more loudly than when he sleeps. But how do you know that he can't sleep because of me?" she asks Sherlock, and he gives her a kiss on her forehead; he feels so proud of her. Just three years old and she already thinks better than most people do. She is definitely a Watson.
"Previous data," he tells her and she giggles as he kisses her forehead again. For a moment, it almost feels like she is his own child. Not that he ever wanted one, of course, but if she is that clever and John's, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. In that moment, he decides that he will help John with whatever he needs in order to raise this unbelievable child. He will be one heck of a godfather, he promises to himself. As if he is her father.
"Is everything all right here?" Sherlock hears John's voice from behind him; he can hear the smile in his voice, and it makes Sherlock's heart melt in his chest. He nods and says "Perfect. Right, Emily?" he winks at her and she giggles and nods. "Everything is great, daddy," she reassures John.
"Why aren't you asleep? It's late," John says to her and looks at his clock. It is almost 02.00.
"Not tired," she shrugs, happy to see that Sherlock is looking at her dad, and not at her. She sees something in Sherlock's eyes when he looks at her daddy, his eyes are practically shining, but she thinks it's better to ask him about that later. So instead she just clears her throat, like daddy does every time he thinks he is interrupting something special.
Sherlock looks at her with his scanning eyes, and blushes. She doesn't understand why, but then again, she decides it's another thing she needs to ask Sherlock in privacy. Sherlock eyes stops scanning her when his phone vibrates on the counter, and he picks it up to see who is looking for him.
Sherlock nods at his phone and shows the text to John. The text informed them that Mycroft has found where Molly's supposed to be. Sherlock and John look at each other and have one of their telepathic conversations. John nods, sighs heavily and picks up his daughter from the counter.
"Sherlock and I need to go for a bit, okay? Can you try to sleep?" Emily starts crying again, and that leaves John in a great dilemma.
"Which of us should stay with her?" Sherlock asks from behind him. John looks at him and sighs, "I don't know. What do you think?"
Sherlock can't answer because Emily's crying is getting louder and they both look at her, exhausted.
"I'm coming with you," she says in between sobs. "I don't want to be alone, and I don't want any of you not coming back in time to go to bed." John and Sherlock both chuckle, and they both know that it'd completely irresponsible of them to leave her alone in the flat, where Moriarty won't hesitate to look for her. On the other hand, taking her with them seems equally insane.
"Lestrade is already on his way to the warehouse," Sherlock says to him, "we can ask one of the cops there to keep an eye on her." John looks at his crying daughter for a couple of seconds, trying to think about the risks in taking her with them and the risks in leaving her alone in the flat. Finally, he nods and Emily stops crying.
They change her clothes so she will stay warm in the cold streets on London in the middle of the night, take their coats and walks out of the apartment. Sherlock holds Emily in his arms and waits while John tries to hail a cab for them.
"Sherlock, am I going to see mommy?" asks the sleepy figure in Sherlock's arms. Sherlock exhales loudly and nods. "I think so," he tells her.
She keeps quite for a few seconds, but Sherlock knows she hasn't fallen asleep yet, though she is exhausted. They enter the cab, Emily still in his arms, sitting on his lap and resting her head on Sherlock's chest.
"Good," she says, "tell daddy I love him."
John and Sherlock look at each other, smiling. When Emily's breaths even and her mind becomes a blur, she hears her dad's low voice—"I love you, my sweet little child."